Ghosted (Team Zero #3) by Rina Kent

“I...” she trails off. Her lips open then seal shut. Then, she finally says, “I don’t know much.”

“Please, Scar.” I tighten my clutch around her hand.

“Did you know that more than eighty million people died in World War Two?”

“Scar...”

“He’ll kill me for this.” She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

I inch closer to her, afraid she’d run out of the door. “So?”

“Remember when I told you my roommate – Zoe – got involved with the wrong people?”

I nod, eagerly.

“It’s Shadow. He lured her to God knows where.”

My stomach falls. But Zoe mentioned Ghost to Liam. She never uttered a word about Shadow. Liam and I had no idea he existed until I came here.

“Did he...” I trail off unable to say the words.

“I don’t think it’s him per se, but it’s for sure that her involvement with him caused her to disappear.” Her scowl falls on me. “I warned her, just like I’m warning you, Elle. She didn’t listen and now, who knows where she is. Are you trying to end up like her?”

My heartbeat thunders as I ask, “Is she... dead?”

“Who knows?” Her eyebrows are scrunched as if she’s offended. “They’re keeping it under wraps. Especially Mist. The bitch.”

Mist and Shadow jump to the head of the suspects’ list. I’ll do everything it takes to uncover the truth about them. A buried voice inside tells me I won’t find Zoe. That perhaps it’s too late, but I shut that voice down.

I won’t lose hope.

“Do you know anything else?” I ask.

Scar shakes her head, and I believe her. She seems genuinely concerned about Zoe.

We remain silent for a while, then Scar hauls me to my feet.

“Now, let’s go drink. I need to drown my sorrow in alcohol until they bring Kylie over.”

“How about your customers?”

“Fuck them!”





After midnight, I’m drunk when I stumble back to our room, carrying a half-empty bottle of vodka.

Our.

It’s not our room. It’s Julian’s room. Julian the killer and gangster whose best friends could’ve taken Zoe away.

But this is also the room I’m the most comfortable in. When Scar wanted to drag me back to her room, I sneaked out and found myself here.

Someone should knock sense into me. Although drowning in alcohol while thinking about all this emotional chaos isn’t optimal.

I trip on my own feet and almost fall. Vodka droplets splatter on the ground. Oops. I kick the heels away and smile when my bare feet touch the floor.

My hazy vision falls on Julian huddled in a new recliner chair. I freeze, and my chest becomes lighter. I thought he wouldn’t return tonight. I’ve been searching all over Le Salon but there was no trace of him.

I release a breath I didn’t even realise I was holding.

Soft light from the lamp illuminates his half nakedness. He’s only in trousers. My hungry gaze dips from his narrow waist to those defined muscles and abs decorated by intricate tattoos. No idea if it’s because of the alcohol or whatever, but I think I’m going to melt.

Julian is so damn beautiful and dark and forbidden, I want to jump him.

Then, I make out a blood-soaked bandage on the floor and a new one wrapped around his wrists. Julian is inspecting his busted knuckles.

I run to him – as much running as my drunken state allows. More splashes of vodka escape the bottle. My heart pounds loud. Just the thought of something happening to him lodges a deep ache inside me.

My incoherent steps almost land me on the ground. Strong hands clutch and jerk me forward. I end up straddling Julian’s lap. My legs are on each side of him. My dress hunches to the middle of my thighs. My palm rests on his broad shoulder. He smells of blood and alcohol — or that’s probably me —, but still hot as hell. He’s warm under my fingertips. His embrace is so wrong but it’s also the right place to be.

“Wow. I feel small.” I slur, but thankfully, his state kicked some sobriety into me. “I hate feeling smaaaall. So why am I not hating this?”

Not so sober after all. I was supposed to think that, not say it out loud.

Note to self: don’t drink with Scar again.

“Someone is drunk.” Julian brushes a stray strand of hair off my face. His lips twitch a little despite the pain swirling in his eyes. The need to hug him and protect him from the world overwhelms me.

Which is stupid, because I’m the one who should need protection from Julian.

I hold his hand in mine and brush my fingertips over the injured knuckles. The wound is neatly cleaned. “Did you clean it yourself?”

“I did.”

“Did you clean your wrist before bandaging it?” Thankfully, I don’t have a tragic slur when I speak now.

He places a hand on his chest. “Yes, Ma’am.”

A small smile escapes me before I tuck it away and ask, “What happened, Julian?”

“I beat President Joe’s people to get some answers.”

My palm glides to his face, and I clutch his cheek. “I’m so sorry about Kyle.”

His eyes close as I stroke the skin beneath his eye and the slight scruff on his jaw. Julian sighs as if lost in the sensation. The tension in his shoulders decreases. My heart grows wings for having this effect on him.